The 3rd (recorded) Overlord of Remnant: Lord Arconnen
by ThatInternetGuy
Summary: Lord Grimmoire, the 2nd recorded Overlord, sacrificed himself to bring his twisted embodiment of vengeance and hatred to life: The Grimm. 1000 years later, Gnarl & co are still searching for a successful Overlording candidate. Who will it be? (The clue's in the name.)
1. Chapter 1

Please forgive me for the horrific title. This is an Overlord fic, if you didn't already know, so I'd say the rating should be suitable for 15-year-olds...I'm not going by the game's age ratings. I'm going by my own age ratings. Also: Chupacabras. Also, the whole "Lord so and so" thing isn't included in Overlord, but I'm just including it to give them that little nudge to essentially become Sith Lords with Gremlin henchmen.

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Chapter 1: "Once Upon a Time, There Was an Ending...

* * *

The 2nd Overlord of Remnant; lord Grimmoire fell by his own hand, but in doing so, he gave birth to an even stronger evil..."

* * *

"Sire! Surely you aren't considering reviving these abominations?!"

Gnarl's interrogation fell upon deaf ears.

Lord Grimmoire sat upon his throne of bones and rotting carcasses within the confinements of his obsidian cocoon. This same cocoon rose from the ground like a warning obelisk to all those with an ounce of purity in their hearts. For this cocoon was the home of Darkness. This cocoon was the gravestone for thousands of pure souls who defied the dark's claim to the land of Remnant. This cocoon...would soon give way to an even darker Darkness.

The Minions chanted and danced around a heap of lifeforce; the lifeforce of the Dark Tower's most recent assailants. The lifeforce became a hurricane of dark energy. Lord Grimmoire rose up from his perch, chanting a dark chant. An Enochian chant.

"I _claim_ these weak souls from their previous owners, who turned to the Light for answers... I _claim_ this lifeforce from weak men, who could not _comprehend_ the idea of balance! Of peace! Between both light **and** dark! Now _they_ will be the ones suffering! For Minions lost! For torches lit! For the ecstatic _laughter_ of their women and children when they heard of my father's demise! Rise, my creatures of Grimm! Rise up and _reclaim_ what was once ours!"

The lifeforce swirled and swirled, forming a white and red bone mask. A bipedal skeletal frame sprung from the mask, the bones attaching like magnets. Ligaments grew on the bones, holding them firmly in place. Then came the muscle tissue, flexing and stretching around the bones. Then, a thick hide smothered the muscle, bringing a dead species to Remnant once more. Finally, black fur, and white bone spikes spurted from the hide, completing the horrific summoning. Now came the resurrection.

"I give you my soul, Grimm. In return I ask of but one thing: the complete annihilation of Humanity!"

All of the Minions were voicing their protests, but he cared not for their insignificant opinions. Even as the lights of his brilliant red eyes died down, his last thoughts were of his hatred of Humankind.

* * *

"Of course, Grimm's genocide only lasted a year. The Gods gave Humanity intellect, and they utilised it to the best of their ability. They created Dust. This Dust became the last hope of Humanity, and it saved them...for a time. You see, Overlords have come and gone, but there are a few who have made their name known across the land. My personal favourite was Lord Arconnen. He really caused some ripples. He left not so much of a mark, more like a smoking crater."

The old Minion scratched his left ear with his arm, which-after it's task was completed-cowered within the monster's black cloak.

"He saved the Overlording industry. Put us on top. I missed him when he left us, but then there was his son, who brought down an empire! I could go on for days about the history of Overlords, but I think I'd best save us both time and skip ahead to the Overlord you came here to see."

Gnarl cleared his throat of phlegm, then began.

"It had been nearly a thousand years since the last time an Overlord had passed the initiation test. The last being Lord Grimmoire. We had no leads, we were ready to give in...until..."

Gnarl suffered an intense coughing fit, spewing phlegm and blood.

"Until Evil found a way. I knew it would. Because evil always finds a way..."

* * *

"Goodbye, Jaune!"

Pyrrha waved him away. They had finished their training. They had defeated Beacon Academy. Jaune ranked at number 4 on the Beacon Academy Power Roster [as seen below]

1. Ruby Rose, 19.

2. Yang Xiao Long, 21.

3. Weiss Schnee, 21.

4. Jaune Arc, 21.

5. Nora Valkyrie, 21.

6. Blake Belladonna, 21.

7. Pyrrha Nikos, 21.

8. Lie Ren, 21.

9. Cardin Winchester, 21.

10. Russell Thrush, 21.

Let it be known to all that on that day, Jaune Arc cried and squealed like a little girl. On the airship, he thought of his destination: the village of Spree. He thought of old Archie, Bernard, John, Callum...and his parents. They were always so supportive of him, no matter what. While his father may have been...harsh at some times, he never once tried to stop his son from attending, even though he knew he hadn't honestly gained entry; the boy could barely swat a fly. That had nothing to do with strength, he was simply incapable of hitting it.

Nevertheless, Jaune missed home, and he was pretty sure home missed him. The airship dropped him off on a nearby plateau. Unfortunately, that meant Mr. Arc had to trek two and a half kilometres to reach his hometown. But he didn't mind: it was a small price to once again see his family.

About forty minutes later, he reached his beloved village. No amount of psychological training could prepare him for what he saw that day.

He saw fire. Fire and death. Little brown things were riding terrified Sheep around his hometown, and swinging various weapons and tools to cut down anyone unlucky enough to be in the open. Red imps were raining fire down upon the houses, cooking children and women. Green lizard things were silently killing those that hid in wheat fields, and Blue Fish people were resurrecting those who fell on the attacking side.

Now normally, Jaune would've interfered by now. But the sight of this precious place in his life being sacked before him was too much. He collapsed.


	2. Chapter 2

Most authors would apologise for keeping you waiting. Not me. I just couldn't be bothered writing.

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He couldn't move. The shock held him in place. Where was he? He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He couldn't smell. He simply existed. He remained like this for quite some time. At least until small scuttling sounds could be heard in the distance. That snapped him out of it. His hands shot upwards...directly into stone. He felt below him; to the sides. All stone. His Aura was weak. Something was draining him, but he couldn't even guess as to what it might be. Whatever it was, it was nearby, and it made the Beacon that gave his old Academy its name look like a AAA battery. He had to get out. He had to. He heard voices now. Getting louder and more frenzied as they approached. He called out, or, he tried to. His throat felt like he'd drank sandpaper...a few thousand times then chased it down with shattered glass. So he merely groaned. Then, his hunger kicked in. He felt light as a feather, and frail as an eggshell. He really needed to get out.

"In here!"

"This one!"

"Well then, get it open!"

'Yes! Freedom!'

"Hngggh!"

A blinding light assaulted his retina.

A large group of midgets had heaved what was now revealed to be the lid of a tomb. One thing that seemed strange to him was the fact that the all had glowing eyeballs and pointy ears.

"He sleepy!"

One midget sung jovially.

"Then don't just stand there like a useless twit! Rub some acid in his eyes; that ought to freshen him up a little!"

'Acid?!'

One midget dipped a rag into a pot of boiling yellow liquid, then brought the cloth to bear down upon Jaune's eyes. He screamed a pained scream that tore his throat apart. At least, until a red pulse shot through him, soothing his raw windpipe. Cooling the fire in his eyes. As soon as his vision cleared up, he was greeted with a hellish sight once again.

The little brown demons from the raid upon his hometown were crowded around him, all smiling their Cheshire Cat grins, revealing the three rows of bone-needle teeth. They were all carrying and wearing a variety of arms and armour that seemed very...unorthodox. Pumpkins, flat caps, knee pad helmets...they were scavengers. There were also way too many for him to fight. Even if he wasn't nearly dead.

"There we are! He's squirming! Now get his sorry carcass to the master!"

That drove them into an uproar of incoherent screams, with the occasional: "for the master!" thrown in. Then, they closed in on him, yanking him out of his tomb. From there, he was carted off down a cavern, with a faintly glowing red orb in the centre. Up several flights of stairs he went, with the occasional glimpse of jagged mountains out the window. After a few minutes, he found himself on his hands and knees before a crumbling throne.

On this throne sat a knight. An evil knight. His armour bore the faces of his demonic minions, and his torn cape was drenched in the blood of the innocent. The tips of his boots were sharpened to deadly points, and his gauntlets bore a striking resemblance to the clawed hands of his minions. On his left gauntlet, a swirling pool of fiery mana dwelled. In his right hand, sat a mighty axe that looked as though it had seen battle. His helm was a sight to behold; a strange merge between a spartan helmet and a crown. His face was guarded by a red cowl, with the rest of his face shrouded in darkness, save his eyes. Those terrible, terrible eyes. Burning with hatred, disdain, and sorrow almost simultaneously.

_"Speak, Human."_

Spat the knight, as he glared down at him (Just imagine Locus' voice from RvB). Jaune shook himself vigorously, before locating his voice.

"Why...am I here?"

That was all he could manage before a fit of coughs and raspy wheezes broke free from his throat. He looked back up at the knight, noticing his blue skin, and the occult symbols carved deep into the knight's flesh.

_**"Because**, Gnarl seems to believe you have potential."_

Like an old lapdog, the minion master shuffled from behind the throne, and gave Jaune a little wave.

_"I trust you know what I am?"_

Jaune thought long and hard, but couldn't put a title to this knight's visage.

_"Don't answer that. I am an Overlord. Well...in a way. I am dead."_

Jaune raised an eyebrow.

_"I imagine you may have noticed the markings on my skin. They are ancient runes that bind my body to serve all things evil. I am to serve as a stand-in to prepare The Dark Tower and the surrounding provinces for the arrival of a new Overlord. I also serve as a sort of bench mark."_

"How so? What is an Overlord? And what does any of this have to do with me?"

Jaune found his voice, and whipped it into action. The "Overlord" growled in frustration.

_"You really are dense, aren't you? Did you not notice any of the open tombs on your way out of the Spawning Pits? You are our last hope for an Overlord before we have to go searching again."_

Jaune got to his feet, and felt...older.

"How...long was I down there?"

He saw a brown start counting his claws...until he ran out.

"Eight. Maybe more. Maybe less."

Jaune choked on air. If this demonic walnut was right, it would make him twenty-nine!

"No, Grubby, you idiot-my apologies, Arc, this one was never good with numbers-no, wait! You'll wake the-"

A thunderous roar boomed from a creepy looking flight of stairs on the far right-hand-side of the room.

"Well, he dead."

Sighed a brown wearing a welding mask.

"Yes Giblet, I believe you're right, well, good riddance!"

The minions were panicking, running around like a band of five-year-olds in a spider's nest. The "Overlord", however, remained perfectly calm.

_"This is excellent. You're coming with me, Arc. We're going to kill a dragon."_

Jaune spluttered, his mind reeling.

"B-but I can barely stand-"

In a flash of black, red, and blue, the "Overlord was upon him, forcing a viscous red liquid down his throat. After a few moments of retching and heaving, he suddenly felt powerful, almost akin to how he felt when Pyrrha unlocked his Aura, and yet again when she did the same for his Semblance. The knight marched over to the staircase, almost gliding down the cold, hard steps with surprising speed. Jaune was trying his best to keep up, but it's hard to keep up with someone who can't get tired. When they finally reached the bottom, the knight swept his hand across the room.

_"Go on, Mr. Arc: choose your army. The browns are your typical soldier; tough and reliable, but with no outstanding traits. The reds are your ranged units; they throw fireballs, and absorb fire, but are frail creatures. The greens are assassins; excellent at killing and stealth, with poison immunity, but stink like shit and are only effective in flanking or ambush manoeuvres. The blues are healers; can resurrect dead minions, swim, attack ethereal creatures, and blink between locations, but are the weakest of the minions, in both strength and durability, placing their open combat value at zero."_

He opened a cabinet and retrieved a steel gauntlet not dissimilar to his own, with a swirling mana pool on the wrist. He hurled it directly at Jaune's head, who tried and failed to catch it. As he lay there on the ground; his nose bleeding profusely, he took another look at the knight's Aura. He immediately felt a wave of aggression and hate slam into him. It was almost like his Aura was trying to tear his soul out of his chest and beat it into submission. It was there Jaune decided he didn't like this man.

_"Get up."_

Jaune felt the left boot of his captor/saviour dig into his ribs, eliciting a yelp from him. The blond clambered up onto his feet and yanked the gauntlet on over his glove and felt a surge of dark power flow through him.

"Focus on the gate you want, reach inside with your mind, and yank your loyal warrior out."

Gnarl informed Jaune, who seemed a little confused.

"Thanks."

A grin formed on Gnarl's weathered face.

_**"Don't** compliment him! Gaah! Now he'll never shut up!"_

Jaune tried to summon a brown, but they refused to budge. Again and again he tried, until he eventually ended up constantly waving his arm up and down.

"Uhhm, Arc? What are you doing?"

Jaune stopped and glared at him.

"They won't come out! The hole's jammed or something!"

A brown dungeon guard giggled immaturely.

"That what _she_ said! Heheheheheeehhh!"

Gnarl shook his head.

"You're doing it all wrong!"

The same brown giggled again.

"That what she said~!"

It sang, laughter in it's voice.

"Alright, now what you have to do is imagine a plug in a drain holding back a wave of pleasure."

"That what she sai-!"

The knight punted the minion's head into a nearby wall, both imprinting it's face into the wall, and silencing it in a single, decisive action.

"Now, I need you to plunge your hand into the bathtub, and yank that plug out!"

Jaune did as requested, and, as Gnarl expected, a brown wearing nothing but a loincloth and a large rat popped out of the minion gate wielding a gangrene-infested arm.

"Well done, Arc! Now grab a few more!"

Jaune did as instructed, and hauled several other minions out, including a green minion with a Nevermore talon on it's wrist, a red with an incendiary grenade pouch, and a blue with an A.E.U (Aura Enhancement Unit)

"Ready, Arc?"

Asked the knight. He nodded and drew his sword.

"Let's get this over with..."

* * *

...Well, on the bright side; I'm going to be updating this story more often. To all my SOTE readers, fuck you, you've had my focus for nearly six months! These people have been waiting patiently, and shall now reap their reward.


	3. Chapter 3

You people are fucking weird. I've put two chapters up of this, and I've got over double the followers, the same amount of favourites, and 1/6 of the views my 1st story does! I...what...when...where...how the...why in the name of...bwha? I don't even like writing this story! (Sigh) So, I got a question about a harem...and I can't be assed to decide right now. I'm gonna do what I do with any story I write: rush through with no written plot, or any plot outside of my thoughts while daydreaming in maths. But, it will be considered. Overlords are known for fucking anything with voluptuous assets and a uterus, but Jaune isn't a run-of-the-mill Overlord, he is recruited in an unusual way. Anyway, I promised a dragon fight, so a dragon fight, ye shall receive.

* * *

The band of rainbow midgets and the two knights strode out into the arena. Looking up, Jaune saw **thousands** of minions, all different colours, cheering them on. After a few moments, a mangled-looking jester minion danced up onto a raised platform, and acted as an announcer for the crowd.

"Good evening, Minions!"

With those three words, the initial cheer of the crowd broke out.

"Rawwhher!"

"Blllabulababulahhhahh!"

"Kiilll! Kkiiiiiiiillll!"

"Smashy, bashy, crashy, and mashy!"

Jester planted his stick into the ground and hauled his body into the air with it.

"Welcome to...Fight Time!"

Another roar broke out.

"Today, my friends, we witness our potential master do battle with the cheeky bastard who broke into the dungeons a few weeks ago: The Fire Dragon of...the...Tower Dungeon..."

Mumbled Jester, realising how lame his idea for a Dragon name was. Nevertheless, a roar of approval erupted about the same time a column of hot death spurted out of the maroon Dragon's maw.

"Now: Put your claws together for...**The Overseer!"**

A primal roar rippled from the knight's covered mouth, and the Minions responded with a similar roar.

"_And_...Jaune Arc."

If there were Crickets in the Dungeon, they were chirping.

"Begin!"

The makeshift restraints the Minions had used to keep the Dragon at bay finally gave quarter, snapping with a dry twang.

The Overseer ran right, and Jaune kept his crew to the left. It wasn't like he could choose otherwise; the centre was on fire. Overseer swept his Minions through the fire, having them give him more breathing room. Jaune did the same, understanding why they brought some reds if their fire support would be useless. He had his blues keep back, but still be in range if they were needed.

The browns hastily got to work on the wings, doing their best to cause as much blinding pain as possible to keep it distracted. That was when the greens came into play. They made their way onto the reptile's head, dislodging scales to get at the soft meat beneath. Others-including the one wearing the Nevermore talon-stabbed it in the eyes, blinding it. The Dragon reared its head and smashed it into the ground, killing the attackers, but dazing itself.

"_Ooh_, that's gonna leave a mark!"

The blues and Jaune swept up to its lowered head, though for different reasons. The Minions had made off with all their dead, bringing them back with a little Aura and a wave of the hand.

"Well, they don't give up easy, do they?"

Jaune was beating the ever living shit out of the thing, as was Overseer, who had recently joined in. The Dragon didn't take this sat quietly, though. It was flailing, spouting gouts of fire, biting, the whole nine yards. Jaune received a rather nasty burn on his shield arm, just below the shoulder. Overseer was grabbed by the throat in the flying beast's locked jaw.

"Hahaha! He's like an angry little chew toy!"

Jaune realised Crocea Mors wasn't heavy enough to pierce the scaly hide, so he snatched Overseer's discarded axe, and swung for the kill.

"Ouch!"

Thud, went the Dragon's head, as it bounced off the ground, and rolled to Jaune's feet.

_"And she's down!_ We have a new **Overlord**!"

The masses cheered, flailing their arms around in the air, trying to get their new master's attention. He was far too lost in thought, however.

'_Alright...it's dead. Whoo...now I've gotta deal with these guys.'_

Overseer got up, and snatched his axe back. They stared at each other, for a while, until their silence was broken by...

"Congratulations, your malevolence! Oh, this is a glorious day! I've waited nearly two thousand years for you-granted, you're scrawnier than I'd imagined you-but I'll take what I can get-"

Jaune put up his hand.

"Hold on: your malevolence?! What's that supposed to mean?"

_"It means: having a will/wish to do evil to others, Arc. Now follow me to the Armoury so we can have you outfitted."_

Overseer spat sarcastically.

"Yeah, but I'm not evil."

An awkward silence passed through the auditorium. Then a roar of laughter.

"Ahahahahahahaha...hahaha! Whoo, hooo, hoo...Thank God for this day; we can finally kill Jester! Mouldy! Fetch Mortis! We're gonna be adding another soul to the Styx."

Overseer was staring at him inquisitively, almost sensing his honesty. The next thing he knew, Jaune was pretending to be an earthworm.

_"He speaks the truth, Gnarl. He's not evil. **Yet**."_

Overseer channelled his dark Aura into his hand, and shot a continuous jet of electricity into Jaune, signalling the activation of the Evil Presence spell._  
_

_"I don't think you heard him, **Arc**. You are the **Overlord**. You **will** act like one, or you will **die**!"_

Jaune writhed in agony on the floor, as dark thoughts consumed his mind, warping his pure soul into something much, much more.

_"There are two types of people in this world, Arc. Those who rise up and whip those below them back into place, and those who slave their way through life serving a master who rejoices in their misery; knowing that they could've been rulers if they'd've took power and ruled themselves!"_

He wanted to protest, but this dead man was showing him a new perspective: the enlightened one. He saw now, all his life he'd thought himself a free man. But no, from day one, he'd been fashioned a suit he'd have to wear all his life: the jester's robes. He could've been so much more, but not in this world. Here, the strong serve the weak, under the threat of ridicule and persecution from others just like them. They were slaves to their own imagination. It was time to shatter the illusion crafted by the autocracy and the oligarchs. Alas, he couldn't save the world as he was. He needed strength the Light could not provide. He needed an army, one that would obey him to the letter. The Light had no such army, for every being who considered themself a denizin of the Light is, by nature, selfish. Putting their own needs before those of the unit. He needed guidance, for he was no ruler. Yet he must once again flee the Light, lest he become the very tyrant he would soon overthrow.

Where shall he go? Beacon?

'No. They'll declare me insane and throw me in an Asylum.'

No, he had all he needed right here.

"Graah!"

Jaune let out a pulse of Aura, ceasing the electrical onslaught sent his way by the Overseer.

"You make a fair point, _Overseer_. But there seems to be something redundant here...you."

Overcharging his Aura, he swatted the incoming axe aside like an unhygienic man swats at flies, pushed forwards with his left leg, and stabbed Crocea Mors into the unarmored shoulder of his bulkier counterpart. He made no sound: merely pulling his shoulder off the longsword. Another swing of the axe, this one blocked by Jaune's shield. He'd blocked the inside flat of the blade, causing the Overseer to stumble forward a little bit. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Jaune pirouetted, smashing Overseer in the face with the tip of his shield. The following surgical strokes tore through the straps of his chest plate, causing it to clatter to the ground. Another shield bash-this time performed like an uppercut-took Overseer off his feet. He moved to get up, but Jaune bolted forward, kicked off Overseer's raised knee, driving him into the ground. With a midair spin for added flair, Jaune drove his sword through where he presumed Overseer's heart would reside.

As Overseer spasmed on the floor, he let out a black/red Aura that seeped out of him into Jaune, as his body was dragged into the Abyss. All that remained of him was his bandana and helmet. With his back to Gnarl, he spoke in a dark tone, almost in the same manner Overseer had not even three minutes ago.

"Okay, _Gnarl_. I'll be your Overlord. But we're going to be changing things around here."

He collected the items of his predecessor, and wrapped the bandana around his lower face.

"But for now..."

He turned to face the old man-hag, who was literally _vibrating_ with joy, as were the minions.

"I need armour."

The burning yellow eyes of a true Overlord had burned into his face, and they promised pain to all those who denied his righteous claim to rule.


	4. Chapter 4

Huh. I call your bullshit and the praise stops, eh? Well played Internet. Well played...but, regardless, most people would be grateful for the things they have, and I understand that. I really do. I shit you not...but, from now on, I want a review if I do even one microscopic detail of my story wrong. Plot holes, OOCness, all that jazz. I want you to beat me like a virgin masochist in a BDSM dungeon. I want you to pull my large intestine out of my ass and choke me with it till I either chew through it or die. Oh, you think I jest? **I have never been more serious in my entire life. Putting this in bold cements my argument. You cannot deny this.**

* * *

***Clang***

**...**

***Clang***

**...**

***Clang***

**...**

A hammer crushed orange metal, relentlessly beating it into the wielder's desired form.

***Clang***

It swung again, completing the rounded shape.

***Clang***

***Clang***

***Clang***

A trio of strikes in quick succession bent the steel material inwards, wrapping it around the hammer on its third blow, now resembling a bucket. Moving while it still had the chance, the smith hastily made the final adjustments to the base product.a jagged 'Y' shape was cut into one side, and the excess material was moulded into three prominent spikes from the top of the bucket.

"All done!"

The smith paused.

"Wait...missing something..."

The small creature got back to work on his masterpiece, looking to complete the set before the new leader arrived to don his outfit.

* * *

***Clunk***

A pair of greaves were securely fastened to their wearer by two goblins. Followed closely by a brigandine, a cuirass over that, and several adornments to increase the intimidating effect of the armour, namely spikes, and iron skulls. An armoured belt was bolted into the leggings through the lower chest plate. The belt bore many pouches containing everything a modern entity of darkness would require: Health elixirs, Aura Stim packs, Dust. You name it, it's there. Faulds were riveted into the belt for lower waist protection. The leggings were made of multiple layers of leather fused together, with cuisse and poleyn strapped onto their appropriate positions. A thick, multi-layered cape was wrapped around his neck, over the avantail, and was held in place with an iron buckle over his left breastplate. The deep crimson contrasted greatly with the shining grey armour he wore. A solid steel pauldron was fastened onto his right shoulder, this added extra bulk to his figure on the right side, and ensured his upper arm was perfectly safe from harm. Over on his left arm, a leather sleeve was rolled over his entire appendage. A cowter and splauder was fixed onto that. A spiked steel cestus was pulled onto his hand, with claws pointing three inches from the end of every finger. The right arm was given much heavier protection. A rearbrace was fastened to his pauldron, and a thick, spiked cowter was added to that. Finally, an incredibly thick gauntlet was slid over his hand. But this was no ordinary gauntlet. The sides were wider, thus transforming it into a small shield. The finger joints were covered better, reducing both risk and mobility. And the standard burning pool of mana(Aura-they're the same thing.) that comes with any control gauntlet was put right in the middle. To finish the look, forge master Giblet bounced up onto his master's pauldron and carefully slid the modified barbute helmet over his master's covered face.

With all his armour on, all that was visible of him were his fiery orange eyes. He approached the Armoury's storage room, and deposited his family sword, Crocea Mors, onto a rack. When he left, he found three Minions: Giblet, Mortis, and Gnarl waiting for him.

"Ooh, you look vicious, sire! Though you could do with some more spikes and skulls, but that can be done later. For now we need to make sure you're all right. Follow Giblet and Mortis, sire. They will resolve any problems you have with it."

The Overlord nodded his head.

"Of course, Gnarl. And...thank you."

Gnarl recoiled at those words.

"Ah, sire! What're you doing?! You're an Overlord! You can't be nice to people! I understand you're fine here, but outside you have an image to uphold! You know, cold-hearted, callous, evil, all that? I understand your new role will take some getting used to, but try to get rid of your old habits as soon as possible. It's unbecoming of a fiend like you to reward his subordinates!"

The Overlord let out a slow, chilling laugh.

"But that's why you're here, Gnarl. To teach me how to rule and such. I'll meet you in the throne room."

The armoured figure clinked across the room after the two browns.

"Hello, master!"

Greeted Giblet, who was comically waving his arms around like a ragdoll.

"Okay. What have you done?"

Giblet scratched his chin behind his welding mask, then raised a finger in the air. He scurried off, returning seconds later with a clipboard displaying cartoony drawings on it.

"Alright! Giblet put boom-boom powder in da cape, armour, and found way to show mana level in pool!"

The Overlord furrowed his brow behind the helm, and turned to Mortis.

"...Boom-boom powder?"

Mortis chuckled rawly, Throwing in a couple coughs and wheezes.

"Ah, yes. Giblet only sees the destructive capabilities of Dust, thus why he calls it boom-boom powder. He knows it does other things, but his tongue hasn't caught up with his head as of yet."

The Overlord nodded.

"So, why put it in the armour and cape?"

Mortis turned to Giblet, who began talking immediately.

"Da cape make scary thing pop up. Da armour hardened by boom-boom powder, also shrug off other boom-boom powder better."

"Did you get that, master?"

Mortis asked, curiously.

"No, I'm beginning to sort of understand his broken English now. And, the...mana pool? Giblet?"

"Ooh, yes! Da gauntlet is with swirly fireball. Look like lava pool. Dat is mana! Brighter it burn, more mana left!"

The Overlord examined his mana pool. It was bright, but not nearly as bright as the one he wore when he entered the arena. He must have used a lot in the fight.

"This armour is amazing. But, is there any way to make it...lighter?"

Giblet scratched his ear, then shook his head.

"No right now. We spend all gold on metal for armour. We need money before Giblet make you very good Durium elemental."

The Overlord let out a "hmm".

'At least I'll be able to build up my strength again...'

"So, did you make me my weapon?"

Giblet cheered and somersaulted on the spot.

"Yes! Yes! Follow. It finish while you put armour on! You see! You see now!"

He shot off over to the smelter, causing Mortis to sigh.

"Well, if you require my assistance, ask for me in the Spawning Pits. I'll be tending to the dead."

_'Wait. Dead?'_

"Dead? Did something happen?"

Mortis laughed at him.

"Yep, you're a new one...How do you think we make the armour strong? We infuse it with the inherent magical energy of your Minions to give it magical properties. Browns make it tougher. Reds increase your own toughness. Greens give you regenerative abilities, and Blues enhance your mana."

"How many?"

Mortis scratched his beard with his scythe blade.

"I cannot be certain here. Find me later, and I will have your answer."

The old blue waddled away, so The Overlord decided to catch up with Giblet.

"Here you go!"

The forge master presented a 42" steel longsword with a snarling brown for the hilt. The two ears made up the guard, and there was a small tube running from the pommel to the tip of the blade.

"Not bad...what're the specs?"

He wasn't that much of a weapon's nut, but spending four years with Ruby has led him to at least find out what his weapons could do before using them.

"It forty-two inch longsword. Da pommel can has boom-boom powder crystal to make fire, ice, big boom...though, it take up all crystal, so this for kill, not hurt."

"Is this going to make my sword easier to break?"

Giblet almost looked hurt.

"No more than normal sword. Stabbing fine. Block with shield, though. Steel blade dull quick when block with edge. Giblet no want sharpen sword every five minutes!"

_'Okay, pretty standard then.'_

"Good work, grab a few extra bits of cow from the dinner table tonight. If anyone asks, say this is my form of paying you."

"Oh, no, no, no. Giblet no want pay. Giblet like make tools for master to smash and loot and pillage!"

The Overlord decided to add: "Minions don't accept rewards" to his List of Things to Know About Being the Overlord.

After taking a few practice swings with his new sword, Giblet told him about the near-invulnerable Jester who resided within the Throne Room. Apparently, he was one of four Minions still alive to have served under the First Recorded Overlord. And that he beat Jester so often that his skin toughened to withstand the hourly beatings he would receive from both the Overlord, and his kin when the former was out beating something else.

So, he decided he knew where he was going.

* * *

"Ah, sire. I'm glad I didn't have to send Mouldy to collect you. I thought you'd gotten lost!"

A Minion wearing executioner's robes stood near the Dungeon staircase, silent as the grave.

"No. I just wanted to take my time."

Gnarl shrugged. He'd waited a thousand years, what was five minutes now?

"You see, sire. You aren't yet a true Overlord."

_That_ caught his attention.

"Every Overlord must choose a new name, one more fitting of a children's fairy tale villain. I'm sorry, sire, but _'Yellow Curve'_ doesn't exactly have anybody quivering in their boots, now, does it?"

The Overlord nodded.

'A new name...I've got it.'

"Arconnen."

Gnarl shivered.

"Ooh, I like it! It's got a sinister vibe to it I haven't felt since Lord Grimmoire! Very well, Lord Arconnen! May you maim and pillage to your heart's desire!"

The newly anointed Lord Arconnen sat on his crumbling throne, ready to prepare a checklist of sorts for his goals.

"Well, my end goal is total domination. Write this down, Jester."

Jester saluted, and began scrawling down everything Arconnen said.

"But in order to do that, I first have to make the people realise how corrupt their rulers really are."

Gnarl nodded.

"Aah, undermining the enemy! I see now! There are several ways you could tackle this, lord. The first would be the same tactic Lord Grimmoire used when the world's heroes came to vanquish him. He defeated them, but didn't kill them. He sent them home after warping their minds with basic signs of corruption. Not a lot. But _just_ enough to make the people hate them."

Arconnen nodded.

"Option two?"

Gnarl continued.

"Well, sire. You could always infiltrate their chain of command and expose the government's dirty little secrets one by one."

"Mmhmm. Next."

"Finally, you could take over a significant amount of land as your own, and point out their society's flaws. So long as they have more flaws than you, you're fine."

Arconnen sat silently for five minutes, pondering his next decision. None of them alone seemed a viable option for every Kingdom. So, if they wouldn't work alone...He had it.

"We use all three. Option one for Mistral. Option two for Atlas. Option three for Vacuo, and all three for Vale, in that order."

Gnarl raised a brow.

"The plan will be subject to change, depending on how the other Kingdoms react to being slowly assimilated by an ancient enemy. This plan should survive past phase one, but after that, we may have to improvise."

Gnarl cackled evilly.

"We'll find a way, sire. After all, evil always finds a way..."


End file.
